Anarchy (Hades Book 2)

by Tate James

  My temper flared hot, and I tilted my chin up. "Or fucking what, Cass?"

  He met my gaze unflinchingly, though. "Or the most incredible," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "Or both."

  That was so far from what I'd expected him to say I was taken completely off guard when he pressed a hand to the small of my back to draw me close. Then he kissed me, and I was shocked enough to let it happen.

  But my wits returned a second later, and I shoved away from his strangely intimate hold.

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I demanded with a bitter laugh.

  He goddamn knew he was out of line if the frustrated set to his jaw was any indication. Or if he even possessed half a brain, he would know.

  "I've already apologized," he ground out from clenched teeth. "When are you going to let me in? I hate the thought of you facing this threat alone, Red. Every time—"

  "I'm not alone," I cut him off. "I have Zed. Just like I always have. And you had your chance, Cassiel. Hell, you’ve had more than one chance, and you blew them all. Suck it up and stop messing with my fucking head. I don't have the time or patience to be manipulated by your dick right now."

  I didn't wait for his response. I wasn't in the mood to have him change my mind, and this sure as fuck wasn't the right time to reignite whatever micro-flame we'd had burning for all of three seconds. Lucas was in the hospital—hopefully—and Chase was potentially alive and gunning for me. Public sex with a man I frequently wanted to strangle wasn't ranking high on my list of priorities.

  It only took a few seconds for him to follow me back down the ladder, pull the hatch shut behind him, and twist the locking wheel to prevent anyone from following us. Good to see he hadn't completely lost his sanity.

  We strode back along the unfamiliar corridor in silence, the sounds of partying from Anarchy growing louder by the second. Mentally, I kicked myself again for not sealing off the supply rooms sooner. It'd been on my to-do list for ages; lots of them had structural damage and I didn't want to deal with the liability if anyone was hurt down here. But I never would have guessed that one of the rooms had a false wall leading to a section of tunnels and what seemed to be jail cells.

  When we reached the room Lucas had been kept in, the one Zed had quite literally blown up to gain us entry into, I slowed down, then stepped inside and looked around.

  Blood decorated the floor, some dark and dried and some still so fresh it was wet and glistening. Rusty manacles hung from the ceiling, the same ones that Cass had needed to pick to free Lucas, and I shuddered.

  "Recognize this?" Cass asked, jerking me out of my violent daydream about what might’ve happened in this room. I blinked a couple of times to center myself once more, then turned to see what he was talking about.

  In his hand, he held a long iron instrument, like a fire poker. But no, the end was flat with...

  "Fuck me," I whispered, swallowing hard. "That sick fuck."

  When we’d found Lucas, I'd been so focused on the knife protruding from his chest I had barely paid any attention to the blistered, bleeding burn on his left pec. Now it made sense, though.

  "Looks like this freak branded stripper-boy with your personal symbol," Cass muttered, curling his lip in disgust as he eyed the brand.

  I shook my head. "Don't call him that. I think if anything should earn him some respect from you, it's this."

  Cass gave me a sharp look, then nodded slightly. "Fair point." He tossed the brand back on the floor, then gave me a hard look. "Come on. Your Wolves can deal with this mess."

  "Excuse me?" I scowled at him.

  His face was pure, stubborn bullheadedness though. "You heard me. You've got plenty of employees that can handle a cleanup." His strong hand gripped my upper arm again as he led me out of the torture room and we stepped over a body. Chase—or whoever—must have hired help because we'd killed at least six unfamiliar faces on our way into the tunnels.

  I was just about done with him playing alpha dog in my house. "Cassiel Saint—"

  He whirled around on me, though, crowding me against the wall and bringing his lips down close to my ear. "No. You listen to me, Hayden Timber. I've stood back and watched you push people away and isolate yourself time and time again, making yourself utterly un-fucking-touchable. For fucking years. Now, in the short time you've been screwing Lucas, something has changed, and I for one don't want to see it change back. You care for him. You're going to the hospital and making sure he's alive. End of discussion."

  His speech shocked me enough that I didn't protest when he started along the corridor once more, his hand still around my arm. He wasn't dragging me along, which was probably why I allowed it, and it seemed a whole lot like he just didn't want to let go for his own reasons.

  We stopped briefly along the way so I could relay clean-up instructions to several of my security team, and I sent off a quick message for Alexi, my head of security, to meet me at my office in the morning. It hadn't escaped my notice that one of the men guarding Lucas's cell had been a Timberwolf. Had I not been in such a hurry to reach Lucas, I'd have made his death a damn painful one.

  I didn't take kindly to traitors.

  Cass led me straight over to his bike, bypassing my car, and jerked his head for me to get on behind him.

  I hesitated, scowling, but he gave me that hard glare that was fast becoming my weakness.

  "You're in no state to be driving, Red. Get on."

  As much as I wanted to argue with him, he was right. The adrenaline of searching for Lucas, of finding him so hurt and nearly dead, it was depleting fast. In its wake I had nothing but shaky exhaustion and dizziness. Not to mention the dull, persistent ache of my bruises and scrapes from the explosion of 7th Circle just a couple of days ago. Yeah, in fairness, I was a damn mess. So I huffed an annoyed sigh and climbed onto the back of Cass's bike.

  "Hurry up and leave before anyone fucking sees this," I growled as I wrapped my arms around his waist. "The last thing I need is my Wolves thinking I've become your bitch."

  Cass scoffed as he kicked over the engine and rolled us out of the parking lot. "No one would ever think that, trust me."

  He was probably right; my reputation was too solid to be cracked with one trip on the back of a Reaper's motorcycle. But still, I remained tense and paranoid until we were well out of sight of Anarchy and all my Wolves. Only when we hit the dark, deserted streets of south Shadow Grove did I relax.

  Cass must have sensed it, too, because he placed a huge hand over mine on his stomach. It was only a brief touch, a small tug to tell me to hold tighter, then he returned his hand to the handlebars. Yet it clicked something in my brain, forcing me to see that he was—as he always was—looking after me.

  The few minutes afterward that it took to get to the hospital gave me some time to wonder if maybe that had been the motivation behind his hot-and-cold bullshit. He was constantly looking out for my best interests, whether it was keeping an eye on Seph—something way outside his job description—or pushing me away from what he viewed as a toxic relationship. Like, say, with an older gang leader.

  Then again, maybe he was just an indecisive fuckhead who couldn't decide if he liked me or not. Maybe I was giving too much benefit of the doubt.

  Only time would tell, though, because I sure as fuck wasn’t putting myself on the line for him to reject again. No. Fucking. Way.

  3

  Lucas had been taken into emergency surgery to remove the knife from his chest and repair the damage done, but we only waited a short time before the surgeon emerged to give an update.

  "Mr. De Rosa?" the doctor asked Zed as he approached. He was still head-to-toe in blue scrubs but had taken his mask off and had it dangling from his hand. "You're Lucas's brother?"

  I gave Zed a sharp look, and he shrugged. "Sure. What's the news?"

  "Your brother is one lucky guy," the doctor said with a brow raise. "Somehow that knife slid perfectly between all the major blood vessels. It punctured his lung, but by l
eaving the blade in like you did, we were able to fix it up. So far, things are looking good for his recovery." He paused, frowning. "The brand on his chest will scar, though. He will need skin grafts if he wants to get rid of that mark."

  There was no doubt in my mind that it had been no accident or miracle that the knife had been so perfectly placed. That wasn't a fluke, it’d been deliberate.

  "We need to see the knife," I told the doctor in a flat voice that made his brows hitch. Then he gave my visibly displayed weapons a nervous look and nodded.

  "Absolutely, I'll have my nurse bring it out." He shifted his attention back to Zed. "You will be able to see Lucas in about an hour when he's out of the recovery room."

  "Thank you," Zed replied, and the doctor made a swift exit once more. I didn't blame him, either. The three of us—Zed, Cass, and I—made for an intimidating trio, even if he had no clue who we were. No doubt someone would fill him in, though.

  When we were alone again—or as alone as anyone could be in a hospital waiting room—I cocked a brow at Zed. "His brother?"

  Zed just shrugged again. "And legal guardian. Seemed like the easiest way to deal with paperwork. I doubt he has health insurance, and I didn't want to waste time with the whole don't you know who I am shit."

  I just blinked at him a couple of times, then nodded dumbly. It actually made a lot of sense, but I sure as hell wouldn't have thought of it in the heat of the moment. Lucas probably didn't have decent medical insurance, or he wouldn't be in the situation he was in with his mom's medical bills.

  "Thank you," I murmured to Zed, "I probably would have just pulled a gun and made the whole thing a million times worse."

  He arched a lopsided smile at me and bumped my shoulder with his. "Nah, you'd have done the same." He shifted his attention to Cass, who sat silently by my side. He hadn't said a single word since we'd arrived at the hospital but still made it abundantly clear he wasn't going anywhere. "Are you sticking around for a bit? I need to change my shirt and check in on Seph."

  I flinched. Seph. Jesus Christ, what was she going to say when she found out? When I'd realized Lucas had been taken, I'd had Cass drop her off at Madison Kate's mountain home some three hours away. Surrounded by Archer and his boys, she was as safe as she could be without me and Zed physically watching her. But sooner or later, she was going to find out—not just about Lucas being hurt but about why he was taken in the first place.

  Fuck. She was going to murder me, and I'd deserve it for not fessing up the second I found out Lucas was her high school crush. In my own defense, I had been in shock. But this was firmly on the shittiest sister alive list of things to do.

  "Not goin' anywhere soon," Cass replied, shifting into a slouch that looked impossibly effortless in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

  "I'm just fine here on my own," I told them both with an edge of irritation. "Or did I suddenly transform into a helpless princess without noticing? Last I checked, I was a hell of a lot bigger and badder than you two."

  Zed arched a brow at me but didn't reply. Instead, he gave Cass a nod and strode out of the waiting room. He had a fair point, given that his white button-down was coated in Lucas's blood from carrying him out of the tunnels, but part of me didn't want him to go. Codependency built from years of trusting no-one but each other, I guessed.

  "You can go," I told Cass after a few moments of silence. He just gave me a long side-eye, and I let out a frustrated sigh. "This is pointless. I have shit I should be doing. I've got traitors in the Wolves that need to be eradicated and tunnels to seal up underneath Anarchy. Not to mention—"

  "Stop it," he growled. "None of that is so urgent it can't wait a couple of hours."

  I ground my teeth together, wanting to disagree but coming up blank. My brain was too fried.

  "Besides," Cass continued in a low, quiet voice, "that kid took a knife in the chest tonight. He deserves to see your face when he wakes up."

  That statement, from Cass of all people, gave me pause. I bit my lip to hold back my stubborn denials and swallowed heavily. Fucking hell, Lucas didn't need me messing up his life. I should have listened to Demi when she told me not to corrupt him.

  Cass cleared his throat, pulling my attention once more. "So... how old is he?"

  I stiffened, turning my head slightly to peer at him. "Excuse me?"

  He met my gaze and dragged his thumb over his lower lip thoughtfully. "Lucas. How old is he?" When I didn't respond, he continued. "Because when Seph was on the phone with you at the yogurt shop..."

  I cringed. Hard. Oh fucking hell. Seph had said to me on the phone that Lucas had come over to study with her. Even if Cass hadn't seen him arrive in his Shadow Prep uniform—which he likely had as well—there was no avoiding the fact that Seph had told him Lucas went to school with her.

  "He used a fake ID when I hired him," I muttered, fighting to keep the embarrassment from showing on my face. "I didn't know until after."

  Cass showed no signs of judgment but also no signs of anything really. Fucker had a better poker face than me some days. I'd kill to play a game against him one day.

  "What I would have done to see your face when you found that out," he muttered with an edge of amusement. "So, eighteen?"

  I groaned and ran my hand through my hair. Obviously, this was a secret that was bound to come out sooner or later, but if I was honest, I hadn't really been thinking long-term when I agreed to keep seeing Lucas. I hadn't even been thinking more than one day at a time. Fucking hell, Zed was going to have a field day.

  "Nineteen in a few weeks," I replied, as though that somehow made it all better. I mean, he was legally an adult; we weren't doing anything wrong. If our roles were reversed, no one would even bat an eyelid at the age gap. Hell, Archer's wife was four years younger than him and that was just accepted as normal.

  Cass grunted a sound, his eyes still glued to my face. "Shit, Red. I'm old enough to be his father."

  I snorted a laugh, not having thought of that. "Well, good thing you're not fucking him then, huh?"

  His lips tugged into a micro-smile, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from blushing like a girl. For a man who barely ever smiled, goddamn, he made it a sexy expression, all sly and sexual, whether that was his intention or not.

  "You look like shit," he told me in a rapid change of subject that had my brows hitching in surprise. "Let's grab coffee while we wait."

  My eyes narrowed. "For one thing, it's rude to tell a lady she looks like shit, Cassiel Saint."

  Another smirk. Damn him. "Oh, you're a lady now, sir?"

  My glare darkened. "And for another, if that's your idea of a peace treaty—"

  "It's not," he cut me off with a short headshake. "It's just coffee because we both need it. We've got time."

  I mulled it over for a quick moment, then sighed. "Yeah, I suppose we do. Or something stronger. There's an all-night diner across the street that doesn't make terrible coffee." I stood up from my chair and made my way over to the nurses’ station to let them know where we would be and make sure they had my phone number in case Lucas woke up sooner than the doctor’s estimate.

  Cass followed my lead out of the waiting room and across the road to the diner in question, but paused me with a hand on my arm before we entered.

  "Here," he murmured, shrugging off his leather jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I made to object, but he gave me a hard look. "I figure you might not want to attract any police attention tonight."

  "Oh," I replied with a nod, realizing what he meant. With my Desert Eagle strapped under one arm, a Glock under the other, and three throwing daggers strapped to my thigh, I was far from inconspicuous. So I threaded my arms into the sleeves of Cass's jacket and pushed through the door to the diner.

  He was only carrying one gun, tucked into the back of his jeans, and he'd pulled his T-shirt over it, so the jacket was much better served hiding my weaponry.

  "This isn't going to do wonders for my reputation," I muttered un
der my breath as I slid into a booth. Cass took the seat opposite me and quirked a brow in question.

  "Having coffee with me in the middle of the night?" he asked.

  I shot him a deadpan glare. "Wearing a Reaper's jacket."

  He scoffed. "Big bad Hades cares what people think?"

  "When it could potentially destabilize my hard-won seat of power and lead foolish upstarts into thinking I've lost my edge? Yeah, I care." I glowered, then sighed. "But you're right. Too many of the SGPD are no longer under my control, and I really don't need some Good Samaritan reporting me as a threat tonight."

  Our waitress came over then and took our orders for coffee. We both remained silent until she came back with our steaming mugs and placed them down with the bill.

  "So, what else do I need to know about this Chase Lockhart situation?" Cass asked in a quiet rumble when we were alone again.

  I frowned, then sipped my coffee. "Nothing," I replied, firm. "I appreciate your help getting Lucas back, but this has nothing to do with the Reapers. I'll deal with it, just like I deal with anyone who threatens my business."

  That clearly wasn't the answer he wanted, because his jaw tightened and I could almost hear his teeth grinding.

  "Red—" he started, but my phone vibrated in my pocket.

  "Not up for discussion, Cass," I cut him off, pulling my phone out to check who it was. Then I released a long breath and declined the call. "Seph," I admitted when he gave me an inquiring look. "She wants to know what's going on, and I have no idea what I'm going to tell her."

  Cass huffed a sound. "I can relate," he grumbled, clearly sour that I still wasn't spilling all my deep, dark secrets with him. After he'd dropped Seph at Madison Kate’s last night, he'd returned to help Zed and I without being asked. So we'd given him some information... like the fact that we'd dug up Chase's grave and found it empty. And the fact that we suspected he was still alive and waging war on me. On us. I still couldn't work out if it was just me he was targeting or Zed too. After all, they'd been as close as brothers once.